


More Than The North

by likeporcelain



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, R plus L equals J, Winterfell
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-26
Updated: 2017-08-26
Packaged: 2018-12-20 02:15:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,507
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11911113
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/likeporcelain/pseuds/likeporcelain
Summary: Jon and Daenerys are in Winterfell to inform the North of their plans to wed, only to be shown up by Bran finally revealing the truth about Jon's parentage.





	More Than The North

**Author's Note:**

> First fic I've posted in a long time so be gentle! Please feel free to comment.

The King in the North stood in front of the Northern Lords and Ladies, trying to restrain his nerves. They had chosen him to lead them, but there was no predicting how they would react to what Jon was about to tell them. His siblings sat at the table behind him staring holes into the back of his neck. He hadn't told them yet. The only people who knew were him, Davos, Daenerys and her Hand, the Lord Tyrion, who were all standing off to the side, watching intently. 

“I have always, and will always, serve the North,” Jon exclaimed. “I joined the Knights Watch to serve the North. I became Lord Commander to serve the North. I became your King, not because I wished to rule, but because I wanted to serve the North. Now, I must serve the North in a different way.”

The air began to shift.

“Daenerys Targaryen,” Jon chanced a glance over at her. He knew she was as nervous as him, but she hid it so well “claims to be the rightful Queen of the Seven Kingdoms. Her claim is not why I support her. I support her as our Queen because she has proven herself worthy of the title.”

“This is nonsense!” a Lord shouted.

“She's a foreigner!” another yelled. 

“Aye!” Jon responded in kind. “She is not from here, but that does not mean that Westeros is not her home. She may not be from the North but she fought beyond the wall as bravely as any true-born Northerner I've ever seen. Most of you can't even say you've been beyond the wall.”

“I will never kneel to a Targaryen!” a Lord hollered, met with resounding agreement from the others.

“But you already have,” came the eerily calm voice of Bran Stark. 

The room quieted as all eyes turned to the youngest Stark. 

“Jon is here to tell us that he intends to marry the Dragon Queen,” he said. 

Jon felt the air leave his body. He had heard that Bran could see things – things that have happened and things that will – but he had yet to be confronted by proof of such stories. Likewise, Daenerys flinched at the strange boy's proclamation. Had Jon told him?

“Is this true?” Sansa asked, standing now. 

“Yes,” Jon told his sister, but it was the rest of the room who reacted. 

Confusion exuded from the crowd.

“Ned Stark's boy marrying a Targaryen?” came a disgruntled voice from the crowd. 

Bran interjected yet again. “Jon Snow is not Ned Stark's boy.”

This time, the silence that overcame the room was as dense as the snow outside.

“Bran?” Jon asked, turning to his brother. “What did you say?”

“You are not our father's son, Jon. He lied to you, to everyone.”

Jon shook his head, wondering if this were a dream. Why would Bran say such a thing? His chest was heavy, sweat covering his brow and his feet felt like puddles on the floor. 

“I'm not a Stark?” he asked, dark eyes becoming damp. He'd said it many times – to himself, to others. I am not a Stark. But it was never genuine. In his heart and soul, he knew he was a Stark, just as much as his siblings were.

“You are,” Bran explained. “You are the son of another Stark, the She-Wolf, Lady Lyanna Stark.”

There was a buzzing of hushed voices, but Jon couldn't hear any of them. He had tunnel vision, eyes locked on Bran but not even really seeing him, not really seeing anything. He hadn't even noticed Daenerys beside him until her fingers laced between his. Even so, he dared not look at her. He couldn't let her see him this way, so lost and confused. Was he crying? He wiped swiftly at his face with his other hand. 

“Bran,” Arya's voice sounded, a sense of urgency to it “if Aunt Lyanna gave birth to Jon, then who is his father?”

“Rhaegar Targaryen!” a familiar voice exclaimed, causing Jon to whip around to it's origin. 

Samwell Tarly stood by the door, little Sam in his arms and Gilly by his side. Jon suddenly felt Dany's hand slip from his. 

“What?” she demanded, taking a step forward. “Who are you?” 

Sam was visibly shaken under the fiery gaze of Daenerys Targaryen, Mother of Dragons. 

“This is Sam,” Jon answered for him.

Daenerys noted the warmth in the King's voice suggesting this young man was a friend.

“Sam is right,” Bran announced. “Jon Snow is not a Snow at all. He is a Targaryen.”

The room erupted, but neither Jon or Daenerys could make out a single word. They looked at each other, both unsteady, unsure, and utterly dumbstruck. In a moment, though, they both sensed something in the others eye: belief. They believed Bran and that was scariest of all.

“It doesn’t matter,” Jon spoke eventually, softly. Half the room didn’t hear him, but he wasn’t saying it to them. He was saying it to himself, and the woman he loves. “No matter who my true father is, I’m still a bastard.”

Daenerys didn’t reply. She didn’t know how to, what to say, or even if she were still breathing.

“N-not really,” the King heard his friend stutter.

Sam turned to Gilly, sending her a signal with his eyes. “Gilly has found some information in one of the books from the Citadel,” he said.

“Um,” Gilly reluctantly spoke. “Well, it said the Prince Rhaegar Targaryen was granted an annulment, meaning a separation of marriage, from Elia Martell and was married again in a secret ceremony.”

Silent eyes bore into her. She pulled little Sam into her arms protectively.

“He married Lady Lyanna,” Sam added.

“And about nine months later,” Bran finished “Eddard Stark found his sister in the Tower of Joy. As she bled to death, she made the Lord Stark promise to protect her son, and only child. A son named Jon. Legitimate son of Prince Rhaegar Targaryen and Lady Lyanna Stark. Heir to the Iron Throne.”

Jon stood unmoving, unblinking, in the eerily silent room.

“Your Grace?” Jon heard Tyrion say and when he looked toward Dany she was hurrying out of the hall, her long braid bobbing behind her.

Without taking a beat, Jon ran after her.

“Dany!” he called to her.

She ran out into the open air, feet sinking into the snow that blanketed the courtyard. She huffed and convulsed, one hand at her chest and one on her tummy.

“Dany,” he repeated, softer now, fingers hesitating before her shoulder.

She twisted to face him. “Is it true?”

Her eyes were red and lashes wet with tears. Her bottom lip quivered and teeth chattered from the cold. He wanted to hold her and never let her go, but this was all too heavy for them both. It left him unsure, questioning everything. Had she stopped loving him already? Was he surprised?

“He sees things,” Jon answered. “I don’t know how or why, but I believe the things he says. And I trust Sam with my life. He wouldn’t lie to me.”

“You’re a dragon, then,” she uttered “like me.”

It was beginning to make sense to the young Queen. How Drogon had taken to him just as he’d taken to her, despite being injured and fearful.

“But,” she began, because he wasn’t all dragon. Not with those dark, heavy eyes and his unrelenting loyalty and compassion. “You’re also a wolf.”

“I’m just,” Jon whispered, stepping closer to her “I’m just Jon Snow.”

“You’re not,” she insisted.

His shoulders sank and his eyes moved down, looking at his own feet buried in the snow atop the ground where he'd spent his childhood running and playing and learning from his father… from Ned Stark. Jon didn’t feel different knowing his parentage, but there was a kind of sadness in finally knowing. He'd grown so accustomed to the uncertainty, he actually missed it.

And now. . . Daenerys would never want him now.

A tear escaped down his scarred cheek, falling into the snow below. And then, a hand. . . one delicate, warm hand lifted his chin and his gaze back up.

“You’re so much more than your name, Jon Snow,” Dany whispered, standing so close to him he could sense her body heat. “You’re more than your parents, and your more than your home, more than the North. You're half dragon, half wolf, blood of my blood, King in the North and the heir to the Iron Throne.”

“I don't want the throne. I never have.”

“Then we will destroy the Iron Throne,” she said, eyes burning, filling him with life. “We will build our own thrown, our own future, together. Jon Snow and Daenerys Stormborn. King and Queen. Husband and wife. Family.”

Her mouth collided with his finally, lips caressing his. Jon's arms instinctively wrapped around her waist, pulling her close but never quite close enough.

“I love you, Dany,” he breathed against her mouth.

Her lips pink and cheeks flushed, she whispered “I love you more.”


End file.
